


Tempest in Retrograde

by stand_by_me



Series: Sundial [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Character Study, Multi, Pairings are mild, Remake Continuity, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23921503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stand_by_me/pseuds/stand_by_me
Summary: A piece on Aerith's thoughts and feelings after the party leaves Midgar. Heavy on speculation, and heavier on remake spoilers.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Cloud Strife, Aerith Gainsborough/Tifa Lockhart, Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough
Series: Sundial [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724332
Comments: 12
Kudos: 50





	Tempest in Retrograde

**Author's Note:**

> If I had bet hard gil on the remake’s big plot twist, I would be rich enough to buy the Shinra villa. I am _reeling_. This fic was born out of a question I still have after gathering my thoughts and theories in a stupidly large document for my main Discord – I figured it deserved some, uh, exploratory analysis.

Tomorrow was already here. Not in the strange, metaphysical sense that had permeated most of Aerith’s thoughts and feelings over the last week – it was well past 2 a.m. in Kalm, and she had a headache, and sleep wasn’t happening tonight. It didn’t really matter. In a few hours, the sun would come up, and Cloud would insist they set off for Junon. She didn’t know how she knew they were going to Junon.

Aerith didn’t know anything, really.

 _Aw, don’t say that_ , said a figment of her imagination. _You’re plenty smart. And I’d like you even if you couldn’t tell right from left._

It was torture. Why had she seen him? Sure, the Cetra could develop the ability to witness events outside of their own time, but she had never tried for fear of giving Shinra another tool to find their so-called ‘Promised Land’. She shouldn’t have been able to perceive him, much less walk directly through him – it’s not like she’d _been_ there.

…

If she was awake, she might as well face it.

She hadn’t been there. But Cloud had, which raised its own set of questions that she only had supernaturally prescient answers to. Did Aerith have the slightest clue what to do about it? No. Her abilities began and ended with dealing with threats to the planet, apparently. But at least she acknowledged Cloud’s predicament this time. This time?

 _Give up_ , she chastised herself. _Get some sleep._

Aerith re-fluffed her pillow for the twentieth time and pulled the quilt up to her chin. She tried fruitlessly to find a spot on the mattress that wasn’t already too warm. Tifa exhaled on the other side of the bed, clearly having a much better night than she was.

 _It must be nice,_ Aerith thought, _to forget your worst traumas._

…That wasn’t fair. Tifa had lost her home, lost everything, twice. Cloud, too. And Barret… Aerith suspected this wasn’t a first for him, either. But they’d had years of practice putting their demons to bed; no wonder they were all experts at it.

Not Aerith. As soon as she closed her eyes, visions of their battle in the Singularity and what came after danced across her mind. Midgar’s destruction in the face of that horrible Meteor. Half an army sent to take down one man. Cloud reaching out in anguish as her soul returned to the planet.

That Aerith had been fated to die came as no surprise; she’d always assumed Hojo would eventually kill her the same way he killed her mother. It was inevitable when you were the ultimate research specimen – _after all,_ she finished automatically, _autopsy is required to measure the primary endpoints of most biological studies._

No, the surprise was that Aerith _remembered_ what the Harbinger had shown them. She could feel the cold steel of Sephiroth’s sword pierce her lungs as if it had happened just last week. She knew, intimately, the mix of determination and resignation that filled her soul as she prayed at that altar. But what was she aiming to do, in that destiny she is no longer bound to? Why did she feel that connection so much more strongly than the others?

Aerith took her mother’s materia out of her hair and rolled it between her palms. It was cool, lifeless. Doing absolutely nothing, as it always had.

Everyone trusted her. They trusted her instincts. Which was hilarious, Aerith thought bitterly, because her instincts were all hesitation and indecision and based on nothing but knowledge she shouldn’t have and didn’t understand. She’d inherited the mind of a great scientist; she should know how to investigate hypotheses and arrive at reasonable conclusions. But this…

_The answers must be outside Midgar. Maybe I’ll find out why I know things but can’t explain them. Maybe everything will turn out okay and I’ll die peacefully sixty years from now, in a home I’ve built with people I love._

…

She didn’t rate her chances on that last one.

Aerith had spent all the hours since they left Midgar chasing that feeling. That feeling of righteous conviction, of knowing exactly what would happen if Sephiroth got what he wanted. That it was _her_ responsibility to stop him. That it would destroy Cloud – beautiful, rough-edged Cloud, who might be falling in love with her even though she told him not to. At least it was a mutual failure.

_‘He’d tell you he only cares about the planet. That he’d do everything in his power to protect and preserve it. But this isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. There’s no greater threat to the planet than him.’_

In that moment, Aerith had felt impossibly sure. As if she was being guided by some benevolent hand of fate, even while she struggled to undo destiny’s chokehold. As if she knew how things were ‘supposed to be’. To be fair, it was hard to _not_ see Sephiroth as a threat if immeasurable magnitude. His power… well, it spoke for itself. But that resolve Aerith always pretended to have… it had been _real,_ for once.

But as their steps grew further from Midgar, that _sureness_ had retreated into the planet, leaving nothing but a hollow feeling in Aerith’s chest. When Tifa had asked her what their next move should be, she just… didn’t know anymore. She didn’t know anything anymore. And now Cloud wanted to chase Sephiroth across the planet, which had sounded like a good, productive game plan until… well, tonight.

 _I think… I need a drink_ , Aerith thought.

 _Good idea! Don’t get carried away, though,_ the figment said, back to torment her further. _Someone has to look after Cloud now that I’m gone, you know. And I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it._

Aerith ignored that. If he didn’t want to elaborate, she didn’t have to listen. She took great care not to disturb Tifa as she stood up, gently retrieving her jacket from the windowsill and tossing it around her shoulders. Fortunately, Barret’s snoring covered up the sound of her closing the door. She didn’t want to be followed tonight.

Kalm’s main thoroughfare was safe, even in the small hours of the morning. Such safety was a foreign concept to her, but she imagined the tranquility kindled Barret’s optimism for the kind of future he could build for Marlene, and for all the kids in the slums. She wondered if the streets of Nibelheim were like this, years ago, before Sephiroth burned it all down.

_Nibelheim…_

She sighed as she passed the shops in the main square, with their delicately woven curtains and painted, shuttered doors. It would have been a monumental exercise in denial to accept Cloud’s version of events, even for Aerith, who was well-versed in monumental exercises in denial. It just… didn’t add up.

Somehow, she knew what was wrong. But that knowledge dodged and parried and refused to be named. It slipped through her fingers and hid in an unreachable corner of her mind, making itself impossible to track down. Kind of like the figment himself, really.

Only the convenience store was open at this hour. Aerith opened the door, catching the attention of the teenaged cashier. He pressed a few buttons on the cash register and looked at her expectantly, scratching a blemish on his chin.

 _Go for the wine,_ the figment said. _You always struck me as a wine person._

 _Go away,_ Aerith said. _Please. I miss you, but you’re not real._

 _That makes two of us,_ the figment replied, and Aerith could almost feel him lean against her back for support, more broken than he ever let on in life.

 _Stop being silly. Of course I’m real,_ she said, shutting him out. But she pinched herself anyway, just to check.

Regardless, he was right. It was hard not to be when he was nothing more than a manifestation of her own insecurities, but still. “I’d like a can of… the sparkling rosé,” Aerith said, glancing behind the counter at the selection.

“Alright. ID, ma’am,” the cashier said.

Luckily, Aerith had swiped her old specimen card on their way out of the laboratory. She’d fought with herself briefly over whether it was worth it, since Hojo or Tseng had undoubtedly implanted some sort of tracking device in it. But the card was decades old, and Hojo was probably more interested in Jenova right now, and the Turks had never had trouble locating her without it, and that mysterious _sureness_ had suggested in the moment that it wouldn’t matter anyway. So she took it.

The cashier’s eyes widened when he looked at the card, but it bore the Shinra logo and stamp, verifying its validity. Still, Aerith couldn’t blame the kid for not wanting to get in trouble. That tended to happen when she was around.

“Sorry if it’s expired,” Aerith said with fake cheer, taking a few gil out of her jacket pocket. “I was gonna get it renewed, but with all the trouble in Midgar…” Technically not a lie.

“…It’s okay,” the cashier said, returning her card and swiping the gil to his side of the counter with one fluid motion. “Just a sec.”

Wine in hand, Aerith left the store and took a seat on an empty bench outside. The cool breeze gave her goosebumps. She idly hoped Cloud would rustle up enough work in town to get her something with longer sleeves.

Aerith expected the figment to respond to that with a quip about her thin arms, but it never came.

It would’ve been appropriate. Aerith couldn’t get the damn tab open. She’d never kept her nails long, but one of the first things Hojo did when she was ‘back’ in his ‘custody’ was have them clipped them down to the nubs. Just to remind her who was in control.

She tried prying the tab open with one of her jacket buckles. Didn’t work. She tried again with one of her bracelets. Didn’t work. Shoelace? No luck. In a last-ditch effort, Aerith conjured up a bit of magic and compressed it into something flat and hard, and put _that_ under the tab. It slipped and vanished, but not before nicking the inside of her index finger.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Aerith whispered. Magic paper cuts were the _worst._

It was stupid. All of this was stupid. The tab. The fucking god complexes of everyone in the Science Department. Tseng. Her inability to figure out what had caused such a sudden amplification of her powers. Herself.

 _Help me out?_ Aerith pleaded to no one.

 _Awww, but I’m not real, remember?_ The figment paused, breaking character. _I dunno what to tell you. I’m a product of your own mind, after all. Not even a voice of the planet… what does it mean, Aerith? Where am I? Why don’t you know?_

Aerith blinked away frustrated tears. This wasn’t worth getting worked up over. It wasn’t like this imaginary Zack could open her cans and jars like the real one used to. It wasn’t like he could answer her questions, either; why he ended up on that cliff, or where he intended to go afterwards, or what about Cloud had enamored him to the point of self-sacrifice (she didn’t really need an answer for that last one, anyway). No, she could just go back into the store and ask the cashier to open the tab. Yeah. She’d do that.

“Need some help?”

Aerith jumped, almost dropping the can. “…Tifa?”

“I noticed you were gone,” Tifa said plainly, smoothing her skirt. She hadn’t bothered with her socks, leaving her legs in the same chilly state as Aerith’s arms. “Are you okay?”

 _I don’t know_. “…Yes, I’m fine.”

Tifa held out a hand. “I’m not so sure. Here, let me get that.”

Aerith handed Tifa the can and watched as she deftly pried the tab up with her thumb. Aerith swallowed.

“It’s a shame the pub closes so early. I could’ve convinced the bartender to let me mix you a stronger nightcap,” Tifa said, taking a seat on the bench next to her. “Oh, your finger…”

“It’s just a…” Aerith said. She was about to sound extraordinarily silly. “A magic paper cut.”

Tifa giggled. “The _worst._ Well, can’t say I have any magic band-aids, but I have some real ones that’ll do the trick.”

Aerith watched as Tifa procured a paper packet from some unseen pocket and took her hand, wrapping the adhesive around the back of her index finger and looping it around. She… didn’t really want Tifa to let go.

Tifa released Aerith’s hand and crossed her legs. “So, what’s on your mind?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Aerith evaded.

“Come on. We just defeated _destiny_ ,” Tifa said. She fidgeted with her hands a moment, skin smooth and glove-free. Aerith imagined it was a rare sight outside of the bar, which, now… “It still doesn’t feel real, honestly. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make sense of what we saw.”

“Hmm.” Aerith spent another moment looking at Tifa’s hands. “…You won’t believe me.”

“I will,” Tifa insisted without hesitation.

And there it was again. That… feeling. That benevolent hand of fate. That _sureness_ , bright and comforting _. Trust,_ it said, though not in words.

 _You want me to trust her by outing you? What a power move, weird presence._ “…It’s hard to explain. I guess… there’s a part of me I don’t understand,” Aerith said. “The part that insisted Sephiroth is the greatest threat to the planet.” She shook her head. “He…”

“We could all sense it,” Tifa said. “It’s nothing to worry about. You’re fine, I promise.”

“…No, it’s more,” Aerith said. “When Sephiroth appeared, when we could all see him, I remembered, just for a moment, everything he’s done. Everything he plans to do. I _knew_ him. And that’s not possible, right? So it has to be… something else.” She paused. “Someone who’s not really _me,_ you know?”

Tifa’s pressed her lips into a thin line, her eyes suddenly full of alarm. Aerith didn’t need that mysterious hand of fate to tell her what they were both thinking.

_Like Cloud._

“But it’s not… intrusive, or controlling,” Aerith continued, struggling to pin down the right adjective. “When I feel it, it’s like… a voice from the planet, kind of, but it doesn’t howl. It just… supports, and encourages me to follow its lead. Like it wants to help but can’t tell me why.”

Tifa’s expression relaxed. _Not like Cloud._ “Well, it _has_ been pretty helpful,” she said eventually, clearly mulling something over. “Though I wonder…”

“What?”

“…Maybe it’s just your intuition,” Tifa said. “Maybe you need to trust yourself more, and not read too much into this?”

Aerith sighed. “Maybe I do.”

Several moments passed, and Aerith finally got around to tasting the wine. It had already started to go flat, but the flavor was bright and sharp. She could sense the presence was still there, in and around her, almost in anticipation.

Tifa sighed. “While we’re out here… I wanted to ask you something.”

Aerith’s heart rate increased, just a little bit. An image of Tifa holding her hand again crossed her mind. “Yes?”

“Please don’t tell the others. I need someone to sound off on,” Tifa said, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward.

Ah, not that. “Well, sound away.”

Tifa cracked her knuckles one by one, stopping to poke at a hangnail. Aerith hadn’t taken Tifa as one for nervous habits, but she supposed she didn’t know her that well yet. “I’m… worried about Cloud,” she said. “He… I… I’m sorry, I don’t know how to say this. It’s been on my mind for a while, but when he talked about Nibelheim tonight, I…”

The presence whispered, gently but urgently, pressing Aerith to answer Tifa’s question without it being asked. _Zack,_ it said.

 _What does that have to do with Nibelheim!?_ Aerith pleaded, but the presence provided no further guidance.

Damn.

“His story seemed… off, to me,” Aerith said, taking the path of least resistance and simply agreeing. It wasn’t a lie, at any rate.

“I don’t remember that day very well, either,” Tifa admitted. “But Cloud, he…”

The silence stretched between them until it was pulled taut, ready to break. Aerith thought of something. It didn’t feel true, didn’t feel _right_ , but sometimes you had to take a few wrong turns to get to your destination. “He wasn’t there, was he?”

Tifa inhaled sharply.

“…The first guy I ever loved was a SOLDIER,” Aerith continued, being careful to omit the _too_. “Five years ago, he was deployed far away. It was supposed to be an easy assignment – just taking out a few monsters, you know? But he never came back.”

“What was his name?”

 _Ah._ “Zack Fair.”

The stricken look in Tifa’s eyes said it all. “…What do we do?” she asked. “Cloud, he… he doesn’t know. And whenever I try to bring it up, even gently, he… you know.”

Aerith thought about what she had seen on the cliff. If she had a better handle on her abilities, if she could _really_ speak to the planet, then she could see what would have happened to Cloud had they not intervened. The key was there – she didn’t need the presence to tell her that. But trying to explain that to Tifa would just confuse her further, and she didn’t need that heartache. _No, this is my burden to bear._

“Well, a lot of times, when a patient has a problem that’s really, um, dangerous to fix, the doctor just… lets it be,” Aerith said. “They call it ‘watchful waiting’. The point is to not cause any further harm until it’s absolutely necessary.”

“Isn’t that worse than just fixing it right away?” Tifa asked.

“It depends. But, Tifa… we don’t know what caused this.” _I should, but I don’t. And whatever happens because of it will be my fault._ “You want to cure the disease, not the symptoms. What if you try to tell him he wasn’t there and Sephiroth… takes advantage of that?”

Well, _that_ felt true.

“Sephiroth,” Tifa said darkly. “He _would_ , wouldn’t he? I… I guess you’re right.”

A cold breeze ruffled the hem of Aerith’s dress, reminding her it was, in fact, the middle of the night. “It’ll be okay. We just have to keep an eye out. When Cloud figures out something is wrong, we’ll be right by his side to set him straight. Right?”

“Right.” Tifa yawned. “I’m going back to bed. Coming?”

“Sure.”

…

The sun hadn’t risen yet when Aerith roused, keeping her eyes closed to savor the last moments of rest. That tranquil moment between sleeping and waking… she hadn’t even had any dreams. Her mind had been blissfully blank, for once.

But then she felt something… something impossible brush against the foot of the bed.

Aerith held her breath. It had never taken a tangible form before.

 _I’m sorry,_ it said. _I can’t reach him. Maybe this time, you can._

Aerith cracked one eye open and saw the room bathed in familiar static grey, except for one thing – the unmistakable green of the Lifestream, gathered into something vaguely person-sized at Barret’s side.

 _But Marlene will be safe. Even if we fail, she’ll survive, and she’ll grow._ It drew away from Barret, and the static subsided.

What Aerith didn’t understand – and she was trying to approach this from as clinically detached a position as possible – was how this _spirit,_ since that’s what it had to be, managed to keep its form, after having return to the planet, while opposing the planet’s will so strongly. When people died, even Cetra, their souls didn’t keep their shape for long. Especially if they fought it. And Aerith had never heard of a Cetra who could not only exert their will after returning to planet, but _physically harness_ the Lifestream like this. That was absurd. That was like…

…

Like Sephiroth, actually.

The spirit obviously wasn’t listening to her thoughts, drifting across the room to Red’s spot on the floor. Its green tendrils wove together into something that resembled a hand. A moment passed, and it pat Red on the nose. His ears perked up, though he did not wake.

 _You’ll be home again soon,_ it said, voice drowned in static. _I can’t wait to hear what your grandfather has to say._

The spirit stood up from its crouching position, the Lifestream having solidified enough to form something like feet. It made its way to Tifa and brushed her bangs back, holding her cheek with a tenderness nothing related to Sephiroth could ever possess.

 _I remember when you did this. I was already gone, but I… I never knew you felt that way,_ it said. The static intensified. _You won’t suffer this time. I won’t allow it._

It was then that Aerith noticed that the spirit had been carrying a yellow flower, all this time. It left it tucked into Tifa’s hair and backed away, crossing the room once more.

 _Cloud,_ it said.

 _Cloud, it’s me,_ it said.

It placed both of its hands on Cloud’s temples. Everything stopped.

…

_I promised you, remember? I’d come back when it was all over._

…

…

_No, you don’t. But Cloud… you silly goose. I told you not to fall in love with me._

Aerith couldn’t take it anymore. She sat up, and pointed an accusatory finger at… at…

The telltale green of the Lifestream was gone, having been brought under the full control of the spirit, only if for the moment. Her dress was a darker shade of pink than Aerith expected, the buttons more functional. Her mother’s materia wasn’t tucked away in her braid, but then again, Aerith figured she’d used it already.

The spirit brought her hands back to her side and turned around. The static stopped, as if at her command. She smiled.

And when she began to speak, Aerith knew exactly whose voice she heard.

**Author's Note:**

> The figment chuckled. _Me? Gongaga!_


End file.
